The Stable Boy
by Indigo2
Summary: Elrohir, the son of Elrond, ventures to find out what it means to be Human and falls into the wrong hands. AU *SLASH* Finally updated!!!!!
1. part 1

TITLE: The Stable Boy  
  
AUTHOR: Indigo  
  
RATING: from PG to NC-17 in later chapters  
  
SPOILERS: None  
  
SUMMARY: Elrohir ventures out into the world to find out what it's like to be Human  
  
WARNING: This story is going to contain SLASH, so don't bother if you don't like it or are offended by it in any way. Also, this is an AU in which Boromir is not the Steward of Gondor, but rather a Lord in a large town near Minas Tirith. This also takes place many years before LOTR would have taken place, before Celebrian goes west, but after the twins have reached their majority.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I am using characters that are not mine, but I make no money off of this, so I don't think it matters anyway. In fact, I probably lose money off of this, since I could very well be working on something more productive right now. ;)  
  
FEEDBACK: Please!!!! Pretty pretty please!!!  
  
************** The Stable Boy **************  
  
Elladan watched uneasily as his twin brother moved around the room, flitting from place to place like an excited bird. Elrohir rifled through the open trunk at the foot of the grand four-poster bed, at last surfacing with an old, worn cloak that must have been blue at some point. Why he still possessed the garment, Valar only knew.  
  
"This is not a good idea," Elladan repeated for the hundredth time that day. "You at least should not be going alone."  
  
Elrohir looked hard at his twin. "What do you mean, unless you want to come with me?" he asked.  
  
Elladan snorted. "Not likely. I have not your curiosity, or your wish to cause an absolute uproar in the household."  
  
Elrohir sat on the floor, fingering a beautifully made longbow in his lap. He was silent for several heartbeats before he looked up at his twin again. "I have reached my majority, and I think that this is my choice. You alone know of my plan. Please do not tell anyone!"  
  
Elladan turned his back on his brother, looking out the window. "I will keep your secret. Stars know, it is not the only one we have between us." He sighed and turned, and Elrohir could see the tears threatening to escape his eyes. "Mother will be heartbroken," he whispered.  
  
Elrohir placed the bow in the open chest, along with the Elven sword which already rested there. "Mother will never be faced with such a choice as we, and I will not be gone long. Father will understand. How am I to choose between the races of Man and Elf when the time comes if I do not fully understand what I am giving up in both respects?"  
  
Elladan nodded. "I understand your dilemma, though I wish that your heart was as certain as mine. But, please brother, can this not wait for a few years more? Our choice is so far in the future that I cannot believe it will ever come."  
  
Elrohir smiled at his older brother's idealism. "It will come on the wings of the eagles if we are not prepared. And this is as grand a time as ever to discover what lies in other lands."  
  
Elladan sat heavily on his brother's bed, watching as Elrohir donned the worn traveler's clothes he had chosen for his journey. He noted that Elrohir looked almost like a young Man, if it was not for the long fall of his raven hair tucked behind his pointed ears. As half-elven, the twins were still fair of face and sound of limb, but they were not quite as fey as others of the Elven race.  
  
"Your hair, and your ears," Elladan commented. "What are you going to do about that?"  
  
Elrohir stepped over to the mirror, gazing hard at his reflection. At last, he stepped over to Elladan and unsheathed the dagger that hung at his brother's waist. He gathered his hair in hand and sliced it in one smooth movement so that it hung only long enough to brush his shoulders. Combing it with his fingers, he brought it forward so that it effectively hid his ears from view. Now an observer would not be able to distinguish Elrohir from an exceptionally pretty young man.  
  
Elladan stared at his brother's actions in horror. He moved to touch the shorn hair which was no longer a mirror to his own waist-long locks. He stood abruptly, not taking the dagger which was offered back to him.  
  
"It will grow back," Elrohir reasoned, not at all abashed.  
  
Elladan turned at the door to stare back at Elrohir. "I hope you find what you're looking for, and I hope it is worth abandoning your family!" He turned again and slammed the door in his wake, not caring about the tears that tumbled down his face.  
  
Elrohir collapsed on the bed, looking first at the closed door and then to the dagger in his hand and the black hair strewn across the floor. He swept it up quickly, leaving no mess behind for Elladan to be upset over. He glanced out the window; it would grow light in a few hours and he would have to leave now if he was not to be detected. He gathered the old hooded cloak and the meager bag of belongings that he was bringing with him. His eye caught Elladan's dagger, on the floor where he had dropped it. He picked it up, noticing that it was more ornamental than functional, though Elladan obviously kept a sharp edge on it. He laid it neatly on the dresser, where Elladan could find it easily. With one last look back, he made his way to the stables.  
  
The horses in the stables greeted him with soft whickers. He was well known to them, and especially to the little gray stallion he approached. He had bred and trained this colt himself, and they were close friends since his birth. He had wanted to take the young horse into its first battle, but now their first adventure would be one of exploration rather than defense. However, he would feel more secure knowing that his mount was trained for war, even if he had no need to fall back on that training.  
  
He quietly led the horse out of the stable and out onto the grounds. Regret filled his heart at his poor farewell to his brother, but there was no time now to hunt Elladan down for a proper good-bye. He mounted the sleek back and was about to urge the horse onwards when a familiar voice cut across the misty grounds.  
  
"Elrohir! Wait!" Elladan called as he sprinted down the path from the house. Elrohir stilled his horse and waited for Elladan to come up to him. Elladan had several packs in his hands. "My foolish little brother!" Elladan said, though only half in annoyance. "I wager that you were about to go off with no food or provisions with you!"  
  
Elrohir quickly realized that in his excitement he had forgotten about bringing any food. Elladan quickly shoved a pack in his hands, along with two water skins. "Food," he said. "And one flask of water, and another of wine."  
  
Elrohir quickly stored the bags. Elladan placed a small but heavy purse in his hands. "Here, take this also. You will need it in any case."  
  
Elrohir spied in the purse to see that it was stuffed full of gold and silver coins. His eyes widened. Though they were sons of the Lord of Imladris, they need no coins among their own people, and therefore never carried any. He wondered where Elladan had come across such funds.  
  
"Elladan, I can't take this," he said, handing it back.  
  
"No, no, take it, Elrohir," Elladan pushed him. "Hide it well, and do not use it if your conscience pangs you so, but it would ease my mind to at least know you have it."  
  
Elrohir nodded, tears in his eyes as he quickly hid the purse in his tunics. Elladan stepped back then, raising his hand in farewell. "Come back to me, brother," Elladan pleaded.  
  
"I will," Elrohir promised. He turned his horse and they sped off down the trail, not looking back to see his brother weeping. 


	2. part 2

A/N: Okay, I'm very upset over ff.net's new policies regarding NC-17 stories. I'm not nearly as affected as a lot of writers out there, as I can pull a few chapters from my stories and get away with an R rating, and the story (though bowdlerized) is relatively okay. But PLEASE show your favorite authors your support, especially if you've never dropped them a line before. A lot of authors might disappear in the next few weeks, and they would all appreciate your support! And of course, thank you to the people who have taken their time to review my story.  
  
Part 2:  
  
Elrohir sighed as he rode over yet another hill that rose over the long grassy plains. He had not seen forests for many days and the treeless landscape was beginning to wear him thin. His horse was happy, though, as he thrived on the tall grasses that opened around them like a vast ocean of green and yellow waves. Elrohir was not happy. He had not seen another being in long time, and he was beginning to doubt the map that showed a large population of Men nearby.  
  
Elrohir urged his horse onwards, allowing the stallion to choose his own pace. Elrohir kept his sharp eyes out for any small game that may be afoot, or any edible vegetation that survived the grasses' choking hold on the earth. The food Elladan had given him had run out some time ago, and Elrohir had been lucky so far to be able to find ample game in the forests. These grasslands, however, were another matter.  
  
The sun had sunk low in the skies before Elrohir saw a settlement in the distance. Indeed, this was not a settlement but rather a small city! Checking his map again, Elrohir decided that this was his destination. It was a large town close to the capitol of Gondor, but far enough from the White City that it was somewhat isolated. He reasoned that no one there had ever seen an Elf in person, and they would undoubtedly not know what they were looking at when they saw him.  
  
Elrohir smiled for the first time in many days as he neared the town, making out tiny lamps in the failing light. He was perhaps a mile away from the outskirts, and had come across no Humans yet. He dismounted his faithful stallion, unpacking the saddlebags so that his mount was free of any burden.  
  
"It is time for you and I to part ways, my friend," he spoke softly to the horse. "You have served me well, and you know the road home. Bring my well wishes to Imladris, and I will see you soon."  
  
The horse whickered softly, pressing its velvet nose against Elrohir's shoulder in a gesture of farewell. It turned and Elrohir smacked it lightly on the rump, sending the young horse galloping away west, towards home. Elrohir grinned as he shouldered his pack, checking to make sure that the money purse was still sitting securely in his tunic. He set off towards the town, singing under his breath as he walked.  
  
************  
  
The hard dirt roads of the town streets were uncomfortable under Elrohir's soft boots as he plodded along. He searched the signs hanging above the buildings for anything resembling an inn, or even a tavern where he could get a hot meal. His stomach ached from far too many hours without sustenance, and he was now more grateful than ever for the purse that Elladan had supplied him with. It contained more than enough for decent lodging, and it would be able to sustain him for several weeks if he was not able to find work in this town.  
  
The streets were not deserted, even at this late hour. Elrohir could hear creatures scurrying for cover as he passed, and more than once he heard Human voices echoing from the dark confines of an alley. He kept his eyes on the road and his hood up to conceal his features; hopefully he would pass as just another weary traveler.  
  
Elrohir turned a corner that looked far too familiar, and indeed, he looked up to see that he had passed this street twice now. Confound these humans and their dreadful towns! He was tired and cold and hungry, and so very close to his goal! He sat down heavily on hard wooden bench, trying to decide what to do. He was sure that he had tried all the possible streets from this point, and he could see no one to ask directions from.  
  
Elrohir was quite lost in his own thoughts when a nervous voice broke through his fog.  
  
"Excuse me, sir, but can I help you?" the voice said.  
  
Elrohir looked up to see a young boy pulling on his tunic. The boy was perhaps ten or twelve, but not older than that by the standards of Men. Elrohir felt himself smile at the boy's wide-eyed expression, though he wondered why one so young would be out so late at night with no parents.  
  
"Indeed I am in need of a guide," he admitted to the youngster. "Though I would question why one of your age is offering his services to a weary traveler so late at night."  
  
The boy smiled, reveling large dimples and a row of crooked teeth. "I have no parents. I thought I could show you around the town, and maybe you would give me a reward for my kindness."  
  
Elrohir immediately liked this young one's courage and honesty in the face of a stranger. "I would very much like it if you were to show me the way to the nearest tavern or inn, and yes, I will reward you for your services." Elrohir actually planned to give the boy quite a tidy sum, as he surely needed it more than Elrohir did.  
  
The boy smiled widely. "It is not far!" he said, setting off down the road.  
  
Elrohir followed the boy down several alleys and back ways that he did not even see, much less want to explore in the dead of night. This street urchin seemed to know every twist and turn of the town, and Elrohir was pleased by his sure guide. He rounded the last corner, out of a dark side street onto what seemed to be the main thoroughfare of the town. Even now he could hear the music of the taverns and smell the oil of the street lamps. He must not have been watching where he was going because he bumped into his young guide, nearly knocking him over.  
  
"My apologies, my young friend," Elrohir said, reaching out to steady the child. The boy looked up at him with a startled look and turned to scurry down the street. "Wait!" Elrohir called, trying to stop the boy. However, he was soon out of sight before Elrohir could stop him.  
  
He wondered why he had frightened the child so badly to cause him to run away before Elrohir could pay him, but his mood was too good to worry about it overly much. He headed towards an inn on the corner of the street. It looked inviting and warm, and his sore body would be thankful for a proper bed for the night.  
  
Elrohir entered the inn, heartened by the sounds of a tavern. It felt good to be out of the cold at last. He went up to the innkeeper, seated at his small desk near the entrance. The innkeeper did not look like the most wholesome of characters, but Elrohir had been taught since a young age not to judge a person solely on their looks. He smiled charmingly at the man, though it only earned him a sneer in return.  
  
"I guess you'd be wantin' a room for the night, eh?" the man drawled, looking him up and down warily.  
  
Elrohir resisted the urge to touch his ears, reminding himself that they were hidden by his hood at least. "Yes," he replied. "And a hot meal, if that is available here."  
  
The innkeeper made some noncommittal noise that was something between a bark and a snort. "Pay in advance and I'll see what I can get ya."  
  
Elrohir smiled, reaching for the purse under his tunic. His hand encountered nothing but cloth and his mind quickly turned to panic. He searched for it in the folds of cloth, but there was nothing. Why that little street rat had robbed him blind! No wonder he ran so fast!  
  
Elrohir composed himself, hoping the panic in his eyes didn't show. "I am sorry, but it appears as though I have been robbed," he tried to explain to the innkeeper. "Is there anything I could do for a room for the night?" he pleaded. "I am a stranger here, and I do not know where to go."  
  
The innkeeper laughed. "No money, no room, it's as simple as that. I can't be runnin' no charity here!"  
  
"But I can work!" Elrohir said.  
  
"I have enough people here to run the place and a few besides," the man said. "You best be leavin' now, if you don't want no trouble."  
  
Elrohir opened his mouth to say something more, but he realized the hopelessness of the situation and quickly left. The street outside seemed hostile and deserted and the voices coming from the inn were raucous and unfriendly. Elrohir did not know what else to do, so he tried every other inn on the street. He was turned away from every door with laughter and curses. He felt sick to his very being as he thought of the hospitality of Imladris and of the many weary travelers who sought shelter in his father's home. Who were these humans to turn away a person in need, whether he be Elf or Man? Did they not know what it was like to be cold and hungry in a strange place?  
  
Elrohir did not know where he was headed until he looked back to see the town lights fading in the distance. He could hear the ominous peal of thunder in the distance and he hugged his cloak around him as a light rain began to fall. He thought of the little room he had at home, and of the hearth in the kitchen where he and Elladan would eat when they did not want to be bothered by the formality and chatter of the Great Hall. He would give anything to be there again, lazing against the sacks of flour with the kitchen cat curled in his lap.  
  
It was with some surprise that Elrohir looked up to see a large building looming ahead of him. He had walked several miles, it seemed, and was outside of the town's borders. It was difficult to see through the now driving rain, but he thought it may offer some shelter to him. It was with some effort that he dragged his feet the remaining distance to the building. It was a large barn or a stable, he saw.  
  
Careful to be quiet, he slid open the large door. It was not locked, luckily, and he had little trouble latching it again. His fingers were strangely numb and it took some effort, but he managed it after a few tries. The stable was dark but he could see the outline of horses moving restlessly in their stalls. He could not see any stable hands or people in the barn, which he thought strange as the horses seemed like quite magnificent animals. They eyed him with some curiosity, though none were alarmed by the stranger in their home.  
  
Elrohir saw a ladder leading up to a hay loft on one side of the building. He climbed it slowly, shocked at his own clumsiness as he tried to haul his pack in after him. He collapsed onto the fragrant hay, barely managing to lay out his bedroll. He was shivering, though he couldn't tell if it was due to nerves or cold. Never had the world seem like such an unwelcoming place. He huddled under his thin blanket, letting his tears fall until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep. 


	3. part 3

A/N: Not much to put here this time, except for THANK YOU for the reviews, as always!  
  
Part 3:  
  
"Hey you! Hey now, wake up. This isn't any inn we're running here!"  
  
Elrohir groaned as his eyes fluttered open. Daylight diffused into the hayloft where he had slept the night, though the rain still pelted the roof outside. His eyes focused on a Man standing over him, prodding him with the blunt end of a pitchfork.  
  
Elrohir's eyes widened like a frightened deer and he bolted up onto his feet. The world swam in front of him for a few moments before he fell again into the soft hay. He forgot the Man for a moment as he fought the urge to faint outright.  
  
"Hey, easy now. I didn't mean to frighten you, son," the Man said gently, though he still kept his distance.  
  
Elrohir looked up at the Man. He was old, Elrohir would guess, though he could not tell by the way Men counted years. His features were strong, but his hair was a shock of white with only a few darker gray strands to color it. Still, his dark eyes were piercing in a way that suggested a wisdom that only experience could provide.  
  
"I am sorry, sir, for invading your stables," Elrohir said, quietly gathering his things. He felt dizzy again, and must have swayed because the Man held out a hand to steady him.  
  
"No harm done, there. These aren't my stables you're invading anyway," he said. "Sit down before you fall down and rest a moment. You look like you've had a rough night at best."  
  
Elrohir sat on a bale of hay and nodded slowly. "Yes. I have traveled far from my home," he said. "It was raining and I sought shelter, but I could find none in town. I thought that I could be awake and gone from here before anyone noticed," Elrohir admitted.  
  
"Well, you didn't," the gruff Man said. "And now you're in no condition to leave, that's for sure. When's the last time you had a decent meal, boy?"  
  
Elrohir thought back. "A few days," he said. "Perhaps a week." He himself had not realized how long it had been since he had eaten a full meal.  
  
"And how far were you thinking of getting today?"  
  
Elrohir shook his head. "Until I found work," he said.  
  
The Man looked him up and down. "You look strong enough, once we get some food into you," he mused aloud. "How old are you anyway."  
  
Elrohir didn't know what to say. He was far older than this Man, that was for sure, but he was supposed to be a Man too. How old did he look? Oh, he should have asked Elladan before he left!  
  
"Twenty," Elrohir said, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out how he had come up with that number.  
  
"Nonsense!" the Man spat. Elrohir shut his eyes, expecting to be told he looked at least fifty or sixty. "Maybe you could pass for eighteen, but I'd wager closer to sixteen," the Man said.  
  
Elrohir let out his breath. This pretending wasn't so hard after all. "Yes," he said, "You're right."  
  
The Man laughed, though it sounded more like the bark of some large hound. "My name's Derek, and if you come with me we'll see about getting some breakfast."  
  
Elrohir eyed him warily, wondering what this Man wanted from him in return. "I haven't any money at all," he said, not wanting to be embarrassed as he was at the inn the night before.  
  
"Can you handle horses," Derek asked.  
  
"Yes," Elrohir said. He was quickly becoming the best horsemaster in Imladris, in fact.  
  
"Then I'll trade you a day's meals for a day's work."  
  
Elrohir didn't know how to respond. He merely nodded and allowed Derek to guide him out of the hayloft. There was still no one around, though the horses now looked at him with more interest than they had the night before. Derek led him out of the stables through the main door and not through the side door Elrohir had entered through the night before. Elrohir gasped as he saw that the stables were part of a large manor, with the main building close by. He did not see the stone and wood building the night before due to the thick rain and his own exhaustion.  
  
Derek eyed Elrohir warily for a moment. "As you can tell, I am not the Lord of this house," he said, chuckling a bit.  
  
"Who is the Lord here, if I may ask?" Elrohir said.  
  
"Lord Boromir," Derek replied. "He rules the province. You must be from far away if you have not heard of him."  
  
"No, indeed not, sir," Elrohir said. He was saved from explaining his origins as they entered through a plain door to find themselves in a large kitchen. Several women were bustling about preparing food and cleaning. A rather large woman in faded red skits and a white apron turned around to face them.  
  
"What have you got there, Derek? That's a funny lookin' colt if I've ever seen one!"  
  
Derek smiled and pushed Elrohir in front of him. "Not a colt, dear Cook. He's far too skinny to be one of the horses here. See to it that he's fed up a bit."  
  
The woman quickly had Elrohir sitting at a small wooden table by the cooking fire with a large plate in front of him. "And what are you doing here, dear?" she asked him sweetly.  
  
Elrohir didn't know how to respond, as he himself didn't know what his role was. "He's the new stable boy," Derek said gruffly. "He'll be staying in the barn and lookin' after the horses at night."  
  
"And does he speak and have a name?" the cook asked, looking at Elrohir.  
  
"Elrohir, my lady," he said quietly, keeping his eyes down.  
  
"Lady indeed!" the cook huffed. "Call me Sarah, or Cook as most here do! Though I don't mind your pretty manners for a change."  
  
Elrohir blushed. Derek saved him from further embarrassment by hauling him to his feet as soon as he saw that the plate was empty. "Alright, boy, let's get you back to the stables and show you around!"  
  
Elrohir followed him willingly, thanking Elbereth for his stroke of luck. 


	4. part 4

A/N: short little part for those of you reading this. It seems like this story isn't as popular as my other ones, but that's okay. :) Anyway, I'll get back to Cry of the Eagle and In the Darkness pretty soon and get some new parts to those up. Thanks for the reviews I've been receiving!!  
  
Oh, and Sky Magic, I'm very partial to chocolate chips. *evil chocolately grin*  
  
Part 4:  
  
Elrohir collapsed into the fragrant hay, exhausted by the day's work. His very bones ached from an entire day of cleaning stalls and hauling heavy bags of grain from one end of the very large stable to the other. He sighed as he saw the sun sinking lower and lower on the horizon. His job included looking after the horses after nightfall and keeping out intruders. He smiled at that thought, remembering how just a few days ago he wandered into the hayloft, shivering and crying.  
  
The work was easy, though he would much prefer the work of the grooms, if he was given the choice. They led the sleek horses out of their stalls for exercise and saddled them for whoever wished to ride. Elrohir was not used to this system at all---in Imladris, the horses were allowed to come and go as they pleased, and none needed a saddle or bridle to be ridden.  
  
Still, Elrohir was happy that the only contact he had during the day was with the grooms, Derek, and Sarah the Cook. It gave him a chance to become accustomed to life around this strange place before he was forced to continue his masquerade in front of wiser and more well-traveled people.  
  
Elrohir pulled up the blanket, letting the soft whickers of the horses settle his mind. He could sleep and stay alert at the same time, in the manner of Elves. This way, at least, he could watch the stable and rest enough to face the next day.  
  
****************  
  
The sun rose over the tops of the trees in the distance, but Elrohir was already awake and working before the grooms even arrived. He was sitting on a barrel in an empty stall with several pieces of tack spread before him. He worked at polishing the metal bits with a soft cloth until they gleamed dully in the early light. There was also oil to keep the leather soft and supple and strong soap to clean it all. The grooms despised this sort of work, and left it for him to do. Elrohir didn't mind at all, and he was beginning to earn himself a reputation for being nothing more than a sweet-natured boy that was willing to work hard to please everyone. Elrohir almost smirked at this notion, as Elladan would no doubt be happy to tell them all that they were being fooled by nothing more than a mad little Elf with a rather destructive sense of adventure.  
  
Elrohir was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of heavy boots on the clean-swept stable floor. The sound made Elrohir jump---it was too early for the grooms to arrive, and Derek was mending a paddock fence on the other side of the grounds. He peaked around the corner of the stall, careful to keep his hair over his ears.  
  
"Does no one work in this stable, or do the horses saddle themselves?" a loud, pleasant voice called out.  
  
Elrohir nearly dropped the bridle in his hands. He caught it before it fell, but it made an awfully loud jangling noise. Elrohir winced as the owner of the voice moved towards the noise until he was standing in the doorway to the empty stall. Elrohir was suddenly face to face with the most handsome Man he had ever seen. He was tall, though not as tall as Glorfindel, Elrohir reasoned. His hair fell in reddish-blond waves around his face, matching a short beard. His green eyes sparkled as he regarded Elrohir.  
  
"I have not seen you before," the Man said to him. "Why do I not know you?"  
  
Elrohir kept his eyes down, guessing that this was Lord Boromir. "I have just come here, my Lord."  
  
"Are you a groom?" the Man asked.  
  
"No, my Lord, I am a stable boy," Elrohir said, biting his tongue to keep from saying too much.  
  
The Man sighed in exasperation. "Well, I am Boromir, Lord of this house, though it seems as though you have surmised that already. Can you prove your cleverness again and manage to saddle me a horse?"  
  
Elrohir almost laughed out loud, but he kept his tongue firmly between his teeth and nodded. "Which mount do you wish to ride?" he allowed himself to ask.  
  
Boromir eyed him, his gaze slowly roving over Elrohir's body. Elrohir stood his ground; he was used to being admired by both males and females, though not usually with such a predatory light. At last Boromir indicated a stunning white stallion in the next stall. Elrohir moved quickly to fetch the proper saddle and bridle. He did not know why he was so keen on moving away from the Man. It seemed as though he was always out of sorts when it came to these strange people.  
  
Boromir watched as Elrohir gently led the tall horse out of its confined stall. He chose that particular mount for his spirit. He was known to be difficult to control, and most of the grooms dreaded having to saddle him. This young boy would surely be trampled by the proud horse, he thought. But no, the slight figure fit the saddle easily onto the horse while the stallion looked on with only a mild interest. The white horse stood perfectly still as Elrohir held the reins, waiting for Boromir to mount.  
  
"My Lord?" Elrohir asked when Boromir did not move.  
  
Boromir wanted to know how the child had managed to take the stallion to hand without so much as a good bite from the horse, but it would be undignified for him to stand there slack-jawed in awe of a stable boy. His eyes hardened as he jerked the reins out of the boy's hands, causing the horse to throw his head back and eye the Lord with quite a bit of mistrust. Boromir swung easily into the saddle, staring icily at Elrohir.  
  
"What is your name, boy?" he asked harshly.  
  
"Elrohir, my Lord," Elrohir replied, trying to keep his voice meek and quiet.  
  
"I will remember you," Boromir said before spinning the horse around and spurring him out of the stable.  
  
Elrohir gazed after the Lord, wondering how such a harsh man ever came to be a ruler over his own kind. These Men were very strange indeed. 


	5. part 5

A/N: Very short part here. The next one is longer and it gets better from here. THANK YOU for reviews, as always, and keep them coming!! The next part might not be up for a little while, since I'm going to San Francisco for the weekend, but I'll try to get it up by Sunday and *maybe* it will be up tomorrow night (but I wouldn't count on it!). Thanks!!  
  
Part 5:  
  
Elrohir looked out the stable doors, watching the retreat of the white stallion and the Lord of the house. A mare in the stall next to him stretched out her neck to nibble on his sleeve and he idly scratched her ears as he thought. He heard one of the side door swing open on squeaky hinges and saw one of the grooms come into the stables. It was Arek, one of the younger men. He was barely out of his teens, though he seemed to have a way with the horses that few of the older hands could compete with.  
  
"Are you done with that tack, then, Elrohir?" he asked, his brow furrowed in a charmingly concerned way.  
  
Elrohir nodded, still petting the mare who had his sleeve firmly between her teeth. Arek smiled, showing off his boyish dimples.  
  
"Aye, thanks for that. I've hated cleaning tack since I was a child. Are you sure you don't mind it?" Arek paused, looking at the empty stall that usually housed the white stallion. "Where's Devil?" he asked, the lines on his forehead returning.  
  
"Lord Boromir has taken him for a ride," Elrohir answered.  
  
Arek laughed. "I bet he had a hell of a time saddling that demon of a horse! I wish I'd been here to see it."  
  
Elrohir shook his head. "No, I did it," he said simply.  
  
Arek grasped his arm and turned him around. "Let me see the damage, then. Where did Devil get you."  
  
Elrohir smiled and pulled out of the hold. "Nowhere."  
  
Arek looked at him suspiciously. "Alright, then. Beginner's luck. But stay away from that horse if you want to keep your limbs as they are. And stay away from Lord Boromir, too, though you didn't hear me say that."  
  
Elrohir sat on a bale of hay as he watched Arek clip a lead onto one of the horses. "Why do you say that."  
  
Arek sighed and looked down. "Don't worry about it, Elrohir. Just don't attract too much attention to yourself and you'll be alright."  
  
Elrohir kicked the hay bale as he stood. Ai, he thought, good luck at that!  
  
*******************  
  
Lord Boromir had returned from his ride that afternoon astride an exhausted Devil. The grooms were glad of this, as a tired Devil was much easier to rub down than an angry Devil. They were surprised then when Boromir ordered none but Elrohir to unsaddle the horse and groom him. Elrohir had taken the stallion reluctantly under the heavy gaze of the Lord. The piercing green eyes attracted him, though he was careful to keep his own eyes down.  
  
"I have never known anyone to handle this horse so easily," Boromir said to Elrohir. "It is as if he listens to your very words when you speak to him."  
  
"It is a gift, my Lord," Elrohir said. He was torn between Arek's warning and his own burning wants.  
  
"Then it a gift wasted shoveling hay and polishing bridles," Boromir said.  
  
"I am grateful, my Lord, to have work to do and a roof over my head at night. I cannot ask for more." Elrohir glanced up quickly to see the small smile on the proud Lord's face.  
  
Boromir leaned against the scrubbed wood wall, rubbing his beard as he thought. "Winter is coming soon. Perhaps you would rather have a room in the house rather than this drafty old stable."  
  
Elrohir paused. He was beginning to miss his feather bed in Imladris very much, but he had a responsibility to Derek and the horses. "It is my duty to watch the horses at night," he said, trying to keep his voice meek. "The stable is not so uncomfortable."  
  
Boromir's smiled faded a little, but he waved it off. "The offer stands if you change your mind. Let Cook know and she will arrange it."  
  
Boromir left then, leaving the echoes of his heavy boots in his wake. Elrohir went to consult Devil, guessing that the horse knew this Lord's true nature best of all the creatures in the household. 


	6. part 6

A/N: Short part, but important. I'M SO SORRY to all the Boromir fans for making yet another Evil Boromir (tm), but it had to be done. You'll see. So, review and tell me how much you hate me or whatever. :)  
  
WARNINGS: yes, warnings for this part! Whoohoo! Okay, this part contains rape, though it is not graphic, and general Elrohir angstiness. Enjoy!  
  
Part 6:  
  
Elrohir napped peacefully in the afternoon sun. It was a slow day, as everyone seemed to be busy at the house and not in the stables. The stalls were cleaned, tack polished, horses fed and watered, and all before the lunch bell rang. Derek had mentioned something earlier in the day about another family member arriving at the house that day, but Elrohir did not worry himself about it. The less he involved himself in the Lord's affairs, the better.  
  
Lord Boromir was a puzzle, Elrohir mused. He was an arrogant man, fiercely proud and used to getting his way. Elrohir smiled, thinking of how easily he could have been that way if he and Elladan had been raised differently. Still, Elrohir saw that Boromir was a good lord over his small city of people, cold but fair as a leader needed to be at times.  
  
But Elrohir also saw the lust Boromir had in his eyes when he saw him. Elrohir figured he must look like little more than a boy to these people with his willowy figure and quiet ways. An orphan or a runaway, perhaps. He knew it unnerved Boromir that the Lord seemed to have no power over him, despite his common appearance. Elrohir thought it no matter, as he had no reason to want to continue here indefinitely and he could always move on when he tired of this place.  
  
Elrohir reveled in the silence around him. There was only the soft snuffling of the horses and shifting of hooves to harass his ears, unlike when the rest of the staff was present. He thought of going to the kitchens to snatch a bite to eat. Sarah was more than obliging when her little pet came in to sit at the table by the fire and endure her coddling. Elrohir learned that she had no children of her own, so she tended to dote on the younger members of the household.  
  
He pushed himself up off of the hay, brushing it from his tunic and breeches. The sun was sinking quickly now; evenings were short here due to the mountains that bordered the lands. In that way, at least, this place was much like Imladris. He stretched lazily, like a cat, groaning as his joints popped. A rough noise, the clearing of a throat, startled him and he spun around to see Lord Boromir reclining in the doorway, watching him casually.  
  
"I am sorry, young Elrohir," he said as he fully entered the stable. "I did not mean to startle you."  
  
"It is alright, my Lord. I merely thought myself alone."  
  
"Ah," the reply was short, though Boromir still approached him. Elrohir fought the urge to back up as the Lord moved forward, to keep the same distance between him.  
  
After a moment, Boromir was standing almost toe to toe with Elrohir. The Man reached out and plucked a few straws from Elrohir's silky hair. Elrohir shivered at the contact, which made Boromir smile slightly.  
  
"You are not adverse to my touch, then?" Boromir mused as Elrohir still did not move.  
  
Elrohir's eyes widened as he realized that Boromir had mistaken his aversion for lust. He groped for the right words to rebuff the Lord without seeming rude. Oh, how he wished for Elladan's diplomacy!  
  
"My Lord, I am flattered, but I do not wish for anyone's touch," he said as he backed up a step.  
  
Boromir's eyes flashed with anger. "Flattered? You think I flatter you, who are no more than a servant in my home! I demand your service and no more than that!"  
  
Elrohir could take no more of this indignity. "I will warm no Man's bed!" he cried.  
  
Elrohir did not know how fast Men could move when provoked, and he was surprised at the strength of Boromir's grip as he was spun around and pinned beneath the Man's weight. Elrohir cried out in shock, but the empty stable swallowed the sound. Boromir pushed him over a bale of hay, kicking his knees out from under him. Elrohir bucked as he felt a hand slipping beneath his leggings, but Boromir was a seasoned warrior with the strength to match.  
  
Elrohir twisted, trying to remember all of his training under Glorfindel's hand, but he could act on nothing but instinct as panic stole away his reason. He heard Devil screaming in his stall, kicking at the solid wood, though it wouldn't give. He could see nothing as the tears blurred his vision. He tried to concentrate on the scratch of the hay under his cheeks and the smell of leather in the barn, but nothing could distract him from the agony of being violated and taken.  
  
It seemed like an eternity before he gave up, his will fleeing his limbs as his sobs voiced themselves. It seemed like another eternity before he felt the crushing weight of Boromir collapsing on top of him. He felt sickeningly wet all over, from his own tears and sweat and blood, and other things his mind refused to acknowledge. He let his own weight fall to the ground as Boromir rose off of him. Elrohir lay in shock and silence as he heard the rustle of fabric and heavy boots moving away from him.  
  
He did not move until he heard the door slam shut and counted several more minutes after that. Finally, he forced himself to his knees, though the world spun around him. He felt his way to the nearest stall, listening to Devil's concerned murmurs above him as he slid into the stall. He collapsed into the fresh hay in the corner, curling in on himself as he cried. How could he go home now, he thought. How could he face Elladan and his father? He felt his shorn hair and the tears came harder as he made a decision. He could not go home and shame his family with the knowledge of what had happened to him.  
  
He would not ever see Imladris again. 


	7. part 7

A/N: Oh my goodness, you wouldn't BELIEVE the week I've had! I'm so sorry I haven't posted this before (it was actually done a while ago), but classes have started again for me, and I'm swamped already! To make things even better, my roommate crashed my computer and I lost ALL my files!!! But I'm finally back in working order, and here's a part to celebrate my birthday Hobbit-style!  
  
Part 7:  
  
Elrohir roused as he felt a hand shaking his shoulder gently. His eyes shot open as he remembered what had happened a few hours before and he jumped, cowering though his face burned red at the shame of it.  
  
"Hush, hush! What has happened here?" a soft voice asked.  
  
Elrohir looked up to see a man standing above him. He was tall, with wavy brown hair cascading around his shoulders. Elrohir edged away from the man, crying out as he was sure that Boromir had returned to torment and shame him even further.  
  
"I mean you no harm," the soft voice continued.  
  
The voice did not belong to Lord Boromir, which caused Elrohir's frantic mind to pause and glance up. The man had one hand resting gently on Devil's flank and the other hand reached out to him. Devil stood quietly, his ears flicking back and forth as he studied the situation.  
  
"Who..who are you?" Elrohir asked, his voice sounding rough and uneven to his own ears.  
  
"Faramir," the stranger replied. "Sarah sent me to find you, as she was worried that you had not come in for supper yet." Elrohir's mind was still in shock, and the words did not register well with him. Faramir saw this and reached out again. "Please, tell me what has happened. Let me help you," he pleaded.  
  
"No!" Elrohir cried, shying away from the outstretched hand again.  
  
Faramir sighed, but saw that this young boy was hurt badly somehow. It would not do to upset him further and ruin any future chance he had at gaining his trust.  
  
Elrohir saw the strange man leave and felt himself relax a little. His eyes closed and he drifted off, though it seemed like only moments later that he heard more voices. He opened his eyes to see Derek standing above him, looking at him with concern.  
  
"The young Lord was right," he said Derek say quietly. He knelt beside Elrohir, putting a hand to his brow. "What has happened, Elrohir?"  
  
Elrohir turned his face away, but Derek caught a single word. "Boromir." Tears sprung to the Man's eyes and he quickly grabbed a blanket to wrap around the youth's shoulders.  
  
"Come on now, you can stand up," he coaxed Elrohir out of the stall. "Let's get you warm and cleaned up a little, hmm?"  
  
Elrohir allowed himself to bed led out of the barn, though his muscles ached and he shivered at Derek's touch. Derek took him through the back door to the kitchen. Sarah was still there, directing servants who carried large platter of food out to the feast in the Hall. She gasped as she saw Elrohir's shaky appearance and blood-stained clothes.  
  
"Oh, my dear, what happened?" she asked, taking his arm. She quieted, though, as Derek shook his head at her question and she asked no more questions.  
  
Sarah had a place before the fire cleared and blankets laid out for Elrohir. He suffered her attentions in silence, submitting himself to her motherly instincts as she washed his face and hands and made him drink from a goblet of strong wine. Eventually, they both left him alone in front of the fire. Elrohir lay down, half-listening to the bustle in the kitchen but he felt strangely removed from it. It was a long time before the kitchen quieted, with only the occasional servant scuttling in for more wine or beer. Derek retired to the stable to look after the horses after telling Sarah to make Elrohir sleep the night in front of the warm fire where no one would bother him.  
  
Elrohir felt a strange weariness envelop him, no doubt because of the wine, he thought. He allowed his eyes to close, and this time there were no tears. He felt a small, furry body press against him and saw the little gray kitchen cat curl up against his chest. She purred, happy to have someone to sleep with in the cold night. Elrohir fell asleep to the purr of the cat and Sarah's sweet humming above him. 


	8. part 8

A/N: So very sorry that not much has been posted lately. I wish I could write more often, but I'm really swamped right now, and there appears to be no lull in the storm! I will try to get parts out as soon as possible for ALL my stories, so please be patient! I am NOT going to abandon any of my WIP, so hand in there! And thanks for everyone who takes the time to send me feedback!  
  
Part 8:  
  
Elrohir awoke feeling stiff and sore all over. The warm stones under him did little to ease his aches, and his head hurt from the bright sunlight flooding the kitchens. He sat up slowly, noticing that the kitchen was empty and silent for once. He glanced around the room and saw the Man from the night before seated at the rough table, eating from a bowl of porridge. Elrohir bolted to his feet, nearly tripping over a sack of flour and landing heavily back down on his makeshift bed.  
  
"Easy, easy now," Faramir said, rising from the table to aid the poor boy. "I do not need your help!" Elrohir snapped as Faramir offered hand to help him up.  
  
Faramir smiled. "I do not doubt that, but it would ease my mind if you accepted it."  
  
Elrohir ignored him still, levering himself off the ground and steadying himself on the wall when the room spun around him.  
  
"Here," Faramir said, indicated the table. "I have instructions to make sure you sit and eat before you leave the kitchen, and I do not wish to cross our good Cook."  
  
Elrohir sat down gingerly, and Faramir had to suppress a wince of sympathy. Faramir ladled the porridge into another bowl and set it in front of Elrohir, along with the pot of honey to sweeten it with. He saw how Elrohir sat with his head down, his black hair shielding his face from view like a screen. He reached out to tuck his hair behind his hidden ear, but Elrohir caught his hand before he could.  
  
Elrohir dropped Faramir's hand as though it was a hot brand. He quickly turned his attention to the porridge, knowing that this Man would not let him leave until he finished it. "Who are you?" Elrohir asked when the Man took his seat across from him.  
  
"I am Faramir," he answered with a smile. "I said as much last night, but I do not blame you for forgetting."  
  
Elrohir nodded. "You look like Lord Boromir," he commented.  
  
Faramir laughed. "That is of little wonder, as I am his younger brother."  
  
Elrohir nearly dropped his spoon. "Why do you serve me at the kitchen table, then, if you are the brother to the Lord of the House? I am nothing but a stable boy here, and hardly one at that!"  
  
Faramir reached his hand across the table, laying it on top of Elrohir's. He smiled when he did not pull away, though Elrohir's hand trembled a bit at his touch. "You are hurt, and I know my brother is the cause, though no one dare say so. I am no lord or master here, though it is my home and I love my brother dearly."  
  
Elrohir's stomach churned and he pushed away the remainder of his breakfast. "I must see to the horses," he said, excusing himself as he hurriedly left the kitchens.  
  
Elrohir found the stable empty and his own duties done. He was glad as the quick leave of Faramir's company left him shaken. He went out to the yard, drawing a pail of water from the well to wash with, but he could hardly haul it back to the stable without stumbling. At last, he went to a hidden corner of the stable and stripped to wash, drawing the rough cloth over and over his body though it seemed to do little to help. He wished dearly for the steaming baths he would draw in his own chambers, or even for a nearby stream he could bathe in. He tried to remember what he had seen of the countryside during his short time in the valley. He remembered a stream, but he would not be able to reach it on foot. Perhaps if he took one of the horses he would be able to get there and back before anyone noticed his absence. His keen grey eyes lighted upon Devil's head hanging over the edge of his stall, watching him peacefully.  
  
"Devil, my friend," Elrohir said as he approached the horse. "You have watched over me while I was hurt. Can you carry me softly and swiftly now?"  
  
Devil's ears flicked back and forth in understanding. Yes, his eyes said.  
  
Elrohir quickly pulled his tunic back on and rolled some cleaner clothes in a blanket. He opened Devil's stall and the great white stallion walked out calmly, waiting for Elrohir to tack him up. Elrohir, however, stowed the bundle under his arm and swung up on the horse's bare back in Elvish fashion. The horse seemed to chuckle at this new way of riding, though he was obviously relieved to go without bit and bridle.  
  
"To water," Elrohir said in Elvish, and Devil quickly cantered off over the landscape.  
  
*******************  
  
The white horse carried Elrohir far and true, over the foothills to a large stream that flowed through the valley. Elrohir sighed as he caught sight of the sparkling water and heard nothing but the pound of the horse's hooves and the songbirds in the trees. Devil stopped at the bank and Elrohir slid down carefully with more than a little wince. He was still sore from the night before.  
  
"Do not go far," he said to Devil as he stroked the soft nose. Devil whickered and set off to graze the lush grass that grew on the banks.  
  
Elrohir carried his blanket and extra clothes to the water and laid them out on a large rock. He looked around and saw no one around, so he stripped off his soiled clothes and waded into the water. The cold water was a shock, but it felt good to his weary body. The iciness drove away the pain and replaced it with numb acceptance. Elrohir let the water hold his weight as he waded out further; the currents were not strong enough to pull him off his feet. He felt lightheaded and sickened as he saw the fair trail of red wash down the stream on the waves. Elrohir tipped his head back to wet his hair, but he forgot that it was no longer long enough to do such a thing. Instead, he ducked under completely, scrubbing at the tangles that had formed overnight.  
  
"You could be in quite a lot of trouble for stealing a Lord's horse," Elrohir heard as he surfaced.  
  
He spluttered as he lost his footing for a second, ducking lower in the water to hide his body as he looked towards the bank. There, seated on a rock was Faramir, watching him contentedly. A bay mare grazed nearby, her tack gleaming in the sun.  
  
"How...How did you find me?" Elrohir gasped, feeling exposed and vulnerable.  
  
"It is not hard to track in this country, especially when I was raised here and the rider I follow has no reason to cover his trail," Faramir explained calmly.  
  
Elrohir blushed. He knew better than to go anywhere without covering his tracks. Glorfindel would have his hide if he ever heard of this!  
  
"I did not steal the horse," Elrohir said quickly. "I did not intend to leave, and I would have sent him back if I did."  
  
Faramir smiled. "I know you didn't steal the stallion. That is not why I came out here."  
  
"Why then?" Elrohir said sharply. "To finish the job your brother started?"  
  
Faramir's smile faded, but his green eyes did not leave the cold grey ones in front of him. "No. To ensure that no one else bothered you, perhaps. And to tend your wounds, if you would let me."  
  
Elrohir balked at the notion. "Maybe I will run," he hissed. "And you would not be able to track me this time."  
  
Faramir nodded. "If that is what you wish then take the horse and go now. I will tell no one that I saw you here."  
  
Elrohir's eyes narrowed but he did not move and neither did Faramir. "Please," Elrohir said at last. "At least let me dress in peace."  
  
Faramir nodded again and stood with his back to the stream, apparently interested in his horse's bridle. He heard the rustle of clothing and a sharp hiss of pain and sneaked a glance backwards. Elrohir was having a hard time with his tunic and Faramir noticed a good deal of livid bruising on the pale flesh.  
  
"Please, allow me," he started, but Elrohir pulled back, clutching the fabric to his chest. Faramir sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "What can I do?" he pleaded. "What can I swear by or what token can I give you that will ensure you that I will not harm you?"  
  
Elrohir's lips pursed. "Where I come from the word of a Lord is good enough by merit of his honor. We do not swear by weapons or trinkets."  
  
Faramir reached out slowly and took Elrohir's hand. Elrohir allowed it, though he trembled in his grasp. "I, Lord Faramir, swear on my good honor that no harm will come to you if it is in my power to prevent it."  
  
Elrohir nodded and allowed himself to be led to the soft grass in the sun. Faramir spread out the rough blanket that Elrohir had brought and gestured that he should lie down. He did, letting Faramir take his tunic from him and lay it to warm in the sun. Faramir fetched a small jar from his saddlebags and knelt beside Elrohir who turned his face away from the Man.  
  
"Relax," Faramir said softly and Elrohir felt himself unconsciously obeying him. He felt strong, calloused hands smoothing a thick cream over his abraded skin, working the healing salve into his muscles. It felt good, though the salve stung where his skin had been rubbed raw. Faramir soothed the small hurts away with sure hands and gentle words. This was a crude healing when compared to the power of the Elves and Elrohir's father, but he had to admit that it was still effective---in a primitive way, of course.  
  
Faramir worked his way down Elrohir's shoulders and back but thankfully didn't ask him to remove his leggings. Instead, Faramir lifted one of Elrohir's fine, elegant hands, massaging the wrist and palm. He paused when he saw the blisters from so many hours and days of pitching hay and doing menial labor around the barn. He brushed his fingers over them lightly, reminding himself to bandage them properly and find the poor boy some leather gloves.  
  
"These calluses," Faramir asked carefully. "They are like that of warriors who are used to handling swords and spears."  
  
"Yes," Elrohir admitted. "I have handled such weapons before."  
  
"You are a warrior, then?" Faramir asked.  
  
"I fought for my family, protecting their lands, but I have not seen war."  
  
"Why did you not fight off Boromir then?"  
  
Elrohir paused. "He is a Lord in this land and I am of no consequence. Are there not laws here that would find me guilty of some grave infraction?"  
  
"Yes, yes there are," Faramir said. "You are right. It is better for you that you did not fight, though injustice was done. Now, shall I send you on your way, or are you willing to return home with me?"  
  
Elrohir levered himself off the blanket, feeling much less sore and stiff than he had moments before. "I will return with you," he said slowly. "I can always run away tomorrow, I suppose."  
  
Faramir laughed, though he did not know if it was meant as a jest or not. "That is true," he said. "Now, fetch the tack for that devil of a stallion and we'll be off."  
  
Elrohir whistled and Devil trotted up to him obediently. He threw the blanket onto the snowy back and pulled himself up easily. "He is fetched."  
  
Faramir stood with his mouth agape at the sight. "What magic is this?" he said softly. "You have a power over beasts that I have never seen before."  
  
"I have power over no living thing," Elrohir said. "Merely an understanding."  
  
Faramir shook his head at the answer. "Perhaps you can 'understand' Sarah into giving us a late supper when we return, then," he muttered.  
  
Elrohir spurred Devil on, not waiting for the Lord to catch his own mare, though Faramir was right on his heels. They raced into the setting sun, laughing into the wind. 


	9. part 9

A/N: Oh I am sorry I have been neglecting my stories lately, but I haven't forgotten! I will try to be more vigilant, and here is a nice, long part to tide you over. Thank you for the feedback from everyone who's stopped to send a note! Please review, as always!  
  
Part 9:  
  
By some miracle, it was weeks before Elrohir saw Lord Boromir again. However, he saw a lot of Faramir, as the young Lord made it a point to stop by the stables for several hours everyday. Elrohir also found it strange that he more often than not saw Faramir eating breakfast in front of the fire, at the very table he frequented for meals. Sarah told him that it had always been Faramir's way to sit with her and talk in the mornings, ever since his own mother had passed when he was young.  
  
Elrohir was still wary of the Man, though he knew that his misgivings were superficial. Still, there were moments when Faramir would turn quickly, his auburn hair and green eyes flashing in the sun, and Elrohir would have to pause and remind himself of whom this Lord was. He wondered if that was how others saw him and Elladan back home, if he was merely one of a set and there was no difference between them. If for that reason only, Elrohir was willing to give Faramir a chance.  
  
Now, Faramir sat on an upturned pail, watching Elrohir sweep the deserted aisles of the stable. It was getting late in the day and Elrohir moved lazily as he was wont to do when the work was easy. Faramir appreciated the view as Elrohir moved away from him, collecting the last bits of straw and dust.  
  
"Tell me about your family, Elrohir," Faramir asked.  
  
Elrohir paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts on exactly what to say. "My mother and my father are good people," he said at last. "My father is a healer and he was a warrior years ago. My mother is beautiful and I love her very much." Elrohir's eyes teared for a moment as he thought of his parents.  
  
"Are you their only child?" Faramir asked, noting the strain in his voice.  
  
Elrohir shook his head as he returned the broom to its place. "No, not at all," he said. He sat beside Faramir, resting his back against the stable wall. "I have a sister and a brother. My brother is older than I, and my sister is younger."  
  
Faramir laughed. "We have more in common than I thought! You also know what it is like to have a brother to look down on you."  
  
Elrohir shook his head. Faramir relinquished his bucket for the floor, sitting beside Elrohir so they had to turn to look at each other. "It is not like that between my brother and me," Elrohir said. "We love each other like no other. He knows what I am thinking, and I know what he is thinking. We were born on the same day and when I look at him it is like looking in a mirror."  
  
Faramir smiled. "You are twins, then? Identical?"  
  
Elrohir's eyes widened. "Yes, that is so. Is that so common?"  
  
Faramir's eyes narrowed a bit. "It is common enough, though it is truly rare to have two of such beauty as you," he said.  
  
Elrohir looked down at the ground. "That is not so where I come from," he admitted. "Twins are rare indeed, and it causes me much pain to have left my better half behind."  
  
Faramir nodded, though he didn't understand. "What is his name?" he asked.  
  
"Elladan."  
  
"Elrohir and Elladan...those are odd names, though they sound familiar in a strange way," Faramir mused.  
  
Elrohir jumped up in mock outrage. "Your name is the odd one," he defended. "Though it also seems familiar. Perhaps I once knew a horse by the name of Faramir..."  
  
Faramir laughed as he, too, stood up to face Elrohir. Elrohir was entranced by the green of his eyes, like two emeralds that shone in the sun. Faramir smiled wider and was about to reply to Elrohir's jest, but Elrohir found himself almost unconsciously leaning in and softly touching his mouth to Faramir's.  
  
Faramir stepped back, startled, and Elrohir quickly took that as outrage. He stumbled backwards, blushing furiously, but Faramir stopped him with a hand on his waist. "No, stop, Elrohir. It is okay. You merely surprised me."  
  
"I am sorry," Elrohir said. "I..I don't know what came over me."  
  
"Most likely the same thing that has come over me the last few weeks," Faramir said softly as he wrapped his arms tighter around Elrohir's waist, pulling him in.  
  
Faramir kissed him in earnest, lapping gently at Elrohir's warm mouth in a request for permission. The soft lips beneath him parted fractionally and Faramir's tongue slipped inside. Elrohir jumped, pulling back a little.  
  
"What..What was that?" he asked, wiping at his mouth.  
  
Faramir was confused, but only for a moment as realization hit. He tried to hide his smile. "Have you ever kissed anyone before? Man or maid?"  
  
Elrohir's blush deepened as he shook his head.  
  
Faramir's smile escaped. "Come here and try again. It is not so bad, I promise, and I will stop if you say so."  
  
Elrohir sighed and stepped closer, closing his eyes as he felt the arm encircle his back again. The kiss was a little slower this time, and Elrohir tentatively responded. It was strange, he mused, but pleasant in an odd way. Faramir deepened the kiss and Elrohir felt himself melt against the brawnier man, all thought fleeing in a haze. Faramir chuckled against his lips and moved one hand to snake through Elrohir's soft hair. The strong hand cupped Elrohir's cheek and moved to push his hair behind his ear. Suddenly, Faramir paused. Elrohir moaned softly---he did not ask Faramir to stop!  
  
Faramir grasped Elrohir's shoulders and pushed him away slightly, studying him with a strange mix of wonder and fear. Elrohir did not understand until he noticed that his hair was no longer in his face.  
  
"What are you?" Faramir asked quietly. "You are no Man, I know that now."  
  
Elrohir tore himself out of Faramir's grasp, though Faramir had no intention of restraining him. "I beg of you, tell no one!" he pleaded, close to tears. "You are right, I am not a Man, but neither am I an Elf. I am one of the Peredhel, the half-elves. I meant no harm coming here, and I will leave if you wish, but please tell no one what I am!"  
  
Faramir caught his wrists gently, trying to quiet his frantic pleading. "Hush, hush Elrohir, or else the entire household *will* know." Elrohir went suddenly still and Faramir saw the terror in the soft gray eyes. "I promised I would not let harm come to you, and that has not changed. I will not tell anyone of your secret, though I do not see why it is a secret. Look at me. Do you believe me?"  
  
Elrohir stared into Faramir's clear eyes. There was sincerity there, not fear of having an Elf in his grasp, or anger at being misled for so long. He nodded slowly.  
  
"You are an Elf then?" A nod. "I thought there was something odd about you, though I would not have guessed this," Faramir said quietly. He glanced around the stable quickly. "Will you come with me to somewhere we can talk without fear of being overheard?"  
  
Elrohir stared in wonder at this Man who was not only willing to keep his secret, but to protect it as well. "Yes, I will come with you," he answered.  
  
Faramir nodded and gestured for him to follow. Elrohir walked after him as they entered the house through the bustling kitchen. Faramir then took him through a door he had not been through before. It led to a staircase which wound up several floors and opened up into a stone hallway. The building was more closed and claustrophobic than the Great House in Imladris, but they were nearly equal in craftsmanship. This was an old house indeed, Elrohir mused as he was led down the winding halls.  
  
At last they stopped in front of a set of oak double doors. Faramir opened them, motioning Elrohir inside. "These are my private quarters. None are allowed here save me, and the walls are thick; no one will know of what we speak of inside these doors."  
  
Elrohir stepped into a huge airy room. On one side there was a fireplace with a set of comfortably padded chairs set beside a low table. A scholar's desk was set in the corner, and there were several shelves packed with leather-bound volumes. A thick rug covered the floor and there were masterfully woven tapestries hung on the walls. A large four-poster bed dominated the room, piled with soft blankets and fluffy pillows. Elrohir suddenly missed his room in Imladris, though it was not nearly as large as this one he thought it just as comfortable.  
  
There was a fire already in the fireplace and Faramir threw another log onto it to warm the room for the oncoming night. Elrohir sat heavily on one of the armchairs and Faramir lowered himself into the other.  
  
"Can you tell me what you are doing so far away from home? And why did you come here, of all places?" Faramir prompted when Elrohir did not look as though he would speak.  
  
"As I have said, I am not completely an Elf; my father is Elrond Peredhil, so I am part Man."  
  
"Oh, sweet Elbereth!" Faramir swore. "Lord Elrond the lore master? You are his son? That makes you a very powerful Lord in your own right. Far more powerful than my family, at any rate."  
  
Elrohir shook his head. "Peace. I am barely passed my majority, as Elves count the years of this age. I am no powerful Elf Lord."  
  
"I am sorry for my interruption, but this is all a shock. Please continue."  
  
"Since my brother and I are half-Elven, we are both given a choice. We can sail west to Valinor when our father chooses to do so, or we may remain here in Arda and live as our mortal cousins do. I cannot make such a choice without knowing what I am giving up on both accounts. So I left my home and I came here...to do what, I do not know."  
  
"And what will you now that your secret has been discovered? Return home and know in good conscious that Men are weak creatures, easily given to passions and wants beyond their needs?"  
  
Elrohir looked down, though Faramir spoke in honesty without judgment. "I cannot go home," he said softly. "I cannot shame my family and my people with the knowledge of what I have done."  
  
"Is running away to seek your fortune such a crime to the Elves that they would not welcome you home?" Faramir asked.  
  
"Not that," Elrohir said, his voice barely audible.  
  
Faramir's heart broke as he realized what Elrohir meant. "Surely you know that what happened to you is no fault of yours," he said, leaning forward to catch Elrohir's gaze.  
  
"It does not change the fact that it happened," Elrohir answered.  
  
"Then Elves are crueler than Men, if they would cast one such as you out," Faramir said coldly, rising to his feet to pace the hearth.  
  
"How do you know of my father?" Elrohir asked, changing the subject.  
  
Faramir laughed. "We *do* have books in Gondor and, unlike my brother, I bother to read them. Though I admit I have not committed them all to memory. Then again, I did not know that Elrond Peredhil's son would one day be sitting in my bedchamber."  
  
Elrohir laughed at that, and Faramir smiled. "Next time I will send an announcement," Elrohir said. 


	10. part 10

A/N: Hey, look! It's an update!! Wow! Okay, I do have a good reason for not updating lately. I have been STRESSED OUT as I came back from visiting my folks over Christmas to find out that my workplace burned down on Christmas Eve and I am now out of a job. Life is settling now, though, so I have time to work on my fics for all you wonderful folk who leave me pretty reviews. :) I AM NOT abandoning ANY of my fics, so don't worry! It just may take me a little longer to get stuff out right now. And THANK YOU to everyone who has stuck with me and supported me with both reviews and e-mails.  
  
A/N part 2: I am working on a webpage for all of my fiction so I can post NC-17 parts if I choose to do so. This story will be NC-17 eventually, so I will probably post the edited version here and the "real" version on that webpage. I will give the URL when the links and everything actually work.  
  
Part 10:  
  
Boromir entered the deserted stable, waiting impatiently for Derek or a groom, or even that stable boy to attend to him. He was not used to waiting. Was he not the Lord of this house?  
  
Boromir huffed as he finally turned towards the stall of his favorite stallion. The big bay horse was temporarily lame after receiving a bad cut to the leg during a vigorous hunt. He wished to ride, but the only other animal he considered worthy was the rebellious Devil. He approached the white stallion, who immediately laid his ears flat back against his head. Devil well remembered what that Man had done to his little friend, and he was ready to take out his own revenge. Boromir reached to undo the latch on the stall door, but Devil was quicker, darting his head in to viciously bite Boromir's arm.  
  
Boromir leapt back, clutching at his bleeding arm. Devil whinnied shrilly, tossing his head in triumph. Boromir grasped a riding whip from the wall and turned back to the horse, lashing him across the neck. Devil screamed his outrage, but Boromir gave no quarter, taking out his frustrations on the stallion.  
  
"No!" he heard a voice cry and Elrohir was suddenly between him and Devil's stall.  
  
Boromir could not halt his movement and the whip cut viciously into Elrohir's shoulder, ripping clothing and skin beneath it. Elrohir clutched at his shoulder, but did not move from his place.  
  
"Brother!" Faramir cried as he saw the scene. He stepped between Boromir and Elrohir, shielding the Elf from the whip. "Will you whip me also?"  
  
Boromir's grasp weakened and he let the whip fall to the floor. His green eyes were hard as he looked from his younger brother to Elrohir and back again. "Why do you shield him?"  
  
"Elrohir has done nothing wrong!" Faramir said. "He is trying to protect a living creature that cannot protect itself."  
  
"So are you," Boromir said. He turned on his heel and stalked off, slamming the stable door in his wake.  
  
Faramir sighed and turned towards Elrohir. Elrohir was still holding his arm, but he was calm. "Thank you," Elrohir said simply.  
  
"Nay, there is nothing to thank," Faramir said softly. "Let me see to that," he said, peeling Elrohir's hand away from the wound. It was not a bad cut, but Faramir still made the young Elf sit while he washed and bound it with a clean cloth.  
  
"I'm sorry," Elrohir whispered. "I did not intend to cause a rift between you and your brother."  
  
Faramir laughed and sat heavily on a pile of hay. "That rift has existed for many years. You merely fell into it without seeing it first."  
  
"But you love each other?"  
  
"Yes, very much. But it is a love borne out of obligation, not choice. When our mother died, we had no one but each other. Our father had duties to attend to, and he could not forgo them to take care of two small children. But Boromir grew up to be more and more like Father and I...well, I did not."  
  
Elrohir nodded, lightly touching the bandage on his arm. "So it is with Elladan. He is most like our father. He is so certain all of the time. And I, I never know what I want."  
  
Faramir's eyebrow quirked. "All of the time?"  
  
Elrohir laughed. "I am still making my mind up about you," he said.  
  
Faramir smiled wickedly and jumped to his feet. "Well," he said, dusting off his breeches. "When you decide, be sure to let me know!"  
  
"Wait, no!" Elrohir cried when Faramir started to leave.  
  
"No?" Faramir echoed. "I do not pass your test?"  
  
Elrohir sighed in mock exasperation. "Why do Men spend so much of their short lives mired in confusions of their own makings!"  
  
Faramir grinned. "Solely to annoy you," he said.  
  
"I am beginning to believe so."  
  
"And is a short lifetime of confusion a fair trade for a long life of surety and boredom?"  
  
Elrohir grew quiet and Faramir regretted his words. Faramir sat next to Elrohir again, resting his cheek against Elrohir's uninjured shoulder. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to be so blunt."  
  
Elrohir shook his head, making his dark, silk-soft hair brush against Faramir's face. "I sometimes forget why I am here," he admitted.  
  
"Will you stay here with us..with me?"  
  
"For a while yet. If for no other reason than this," Elrohir said as he bent his head to touch his lips to Faramir's in a gentle kiss.  
  
They fell back together into the fragrant straw beneath them, never seeing Boromir as he watched them from the doorway.  
  
********************************  
  
Faramir was in love. He smiled as he watched Elrohir asleep in his bed. The afternoon rays slanted through the open window, bathing the Elf in a golden sheen. Elrohir stirred in his sleep and turned, batting at the hair that fell into his eyes. Faramir laughed to himself and reached out to tuck the errant strands behind the delicately pointed ear.  
  
They had settled into a routine that allowed them to see as much of each other as possible. Elrohir slept in the stables, rising early to see to his duties. He would finish them and bathe, coming to the kitchens for his midday meal just as Faramir would be coming in to spend time with Sarah the Cook after his own duties were performed. Elrohir would watch them from the hearth as he ate, content to study how Faramir would let Sarah mother him, though he himself was old enough to have children if he so chose. Sarah would eventually shoo them both out as she started the preparations for the evening meal. Elrohir would then steal up to Faramir's room through the service corridors and spend the afternoons with him sequestered behind the heavy doors.  
  
Afternoons were the most wonderful part of Faramir's day. They would read together, curled up on the bed or in front of the fire. Sometimes Faramir would prod Elrohir into reading aloud to him and he would sit back and let Elrohir's honeyed voice wash over him without truly listening to the words. More than once, he had realized that Elrohir had started speaking Elvish without him noticing.  
  
"I am merely testing your powers of observation," Elrohir would say before continuing with the story in Westron.  
  
But Elrohir was tired today. Derek had found foxtails in the horses' hay and worked him hard clearing the mangers and checking the horses for any injuries. Faramir had all but pushed him into the bed.  
  
"Elrohir, you look like you haven't slept in days!" he said.  
  
"No, I haven't been sleeping well," Elrohir admitted.  
  
"The stable is too cold and drafty for you sleep properly. The horses can take care of themselves. Let me find you your own room in the manor, with a real bed!"  
  
"No, no," Elrohir said vehemently. "I cannot accept that."  
  
No amount of coaxing would get Elrohir to admit why he would not take a room in the house. Instead, Faramir insisted that he at least lay down to rest, though Elrohir was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Faramir curled up on his side opposite to him, far enough away on the big bed to allow him his own space. He was happy to watch Elrohir in this rare moment of abandon.  
  
"Nothing will harm you," Faramir said aloud to the empty air. "No one will ever touch you again lest it be out of love, if it is in my power to prevent." 


End file.
